You've seen a pair of faithful lovers die: And much you care; for most of you will cry, 'Twas a just judgment on their constancy. For, heaven be thank'd, we live in such an age,...
Perhaps the parson[1] stretch'd a point too far, When with our Theatres he waged a war. He tells you, that this very moral age Received the first infection from the stage....
They who have best succeeded on the stage, Have still conform'd their genius to their age. Thus Jonson did mechanic humour show, When men were dull, and conversation low....
So fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet, So ripe a judgment, and so rare a wit, Require at least an age in one to meet. In her they met; but long they could not stay,...
Sacred To The Immortal Memory Of Sir Palmes Fairbone, Knight, Governor Of Tangier; In Execution Of Which Command, He Was Mortally Wounded By A Shot From The Moors, Then Besieging The Town, In The Forty-Sixth Year Of His Age. Oc...
In days of old, there lived, of mighty fame, A valiant prince, and Theseus was his name: A chief, who more in feats of arms excell'd, The rising nor the setting sun beheld....
A plain-built[1] house, after so long a stay, Will send you half unsatisfied away; When, fallen from your expected pomp, you find A bare convenience only is design'd. You, who each day can theatres behold,...
So shipwreck'd passengers escape to land, So look they, when on the bare beach they stand, Dropping and cold, and their first fear scarce o'er, Expecting famine on a desert shore....
Full twenty years and more, our labouring stage Has lost on this incorrigible age: Our poets, the John Ketches of the nation, Have seem'd to lash ye, even to excoriation:...
To say, this comedy pleased long ago, Is not enough to make it pass you now. Yet, gentlemen, your ancestors had wit; When few men censured, and when fewer writ. And Jonson, of those few the best, chose this...
As needy gallants in the scrivener's hands, Court the rich knave that gripes their mortgaged lands, The first fat buck of all the season's sent, And keeper takes no fee in compliment:...
Our author, by experience, finds it true, 'Tis much more hard to please himself than you; And out of no feign'd modesty, this day Damns his laborious trifle of a play;...
Were you but half so wise as you're severe, Our youthful poet should not need to fear: To his green years your censures you would suit, Not blast the blossom, but expect the fruit....
The unhappy man, who once has trail'd a pen, Lives not to please himself, but other men; Is always drudging, wastes his life and blood, Yet only eats and drinks what you think good....
The judge removed, though he's no more my lord, May plead at bar, or at the council board: So may cast poets write; there's no pretension To argue loss of wit from loss of pension....
Sure there's a dearth of wit in this dull town, When silly plays so savourily go down; As, when clipt money passes, 'tis a sign A nation is not over-stock'd with coin. Happy is he who, in his own defence,...